


Title to be Determined

by Raven_Woods_2003



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Almost all of them are LGBT let's face it, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Eventual Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Gay Yuri Plisetsky, How Do I Tag, Ice Skating, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Russian Skating Family, Slow Burn, figure skating, like seriously slow burn, maybe ooc?, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2020-12-27 15:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Woods_2003/pseuds/Raven_Woods_2003
Summary: I started writing this well over a year ago, which is insane to think of now. I had just left Fanfic.Net, deleting all of the stories on there because I lost motivation because of the pressure to post. The longest one was 40k words.When the tags say slow burn, it means it. I have 40 pre-written chapters for this story, and 115k+ words. For me, that's insane. This story is one of my proudest achievements and it's nowhere near finished. I told myself I would start posting when I hit 100k and got a name, whichever came 2nd. It still doesn't have a name but everyone I know keeps telling me to start uploading. So I'm doing that. Idk if posts will be regular. I don't want to lose my love for this book like I did with the last ones, so I'm not pressuring myself with it. I love this story more than anything.It begins in 2016, at the GPF in Marseille, one year after the show's end. I have plans for the story up to 2020. I have no plans to stop there, but we'll see. I have put so so much into this story, and will continue to write it even if nobody reads it. Still, I hope you do give it a chance and enjoy it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

“Yurochka, hurry up! Yakov’s gonna go batshit at us if we’re late!” Mila’s voice rang through her apartment, and the blond groaned in frustration as he threw down the leopard print leggings in his hand. He’d stayed at Mila’s the night previous, because Lilia was under the weather and wasn’t able to join them for the GPF – Yakov had insisted that Yuri would be far too stressful for her and had made him stay at Mila’s place. Not that it was an issue, as he could rope the older skater into helping him ram all of his stuff into his suitcase. Instead, the pair had opted for wine and several movies; he was regretting that now. Mila hadn’t appeared to have much trouble getting her stuff packed on the morning of their flight, but Yuri was seriously struggling.

“Get in here and help me, hag! The plane leaves in three hours and my stuff _won’t stay in_!” She came into the room a second later, looking slouchier than usual in a pair of grey sweatpants and a fluffy purple jumper. He hadn’t gone too extra, deciding on some tiger print shorts and a plain black off-the shoulder. Just because he was going to an airport didn’t mean he wanted to look like a slob.

“Why are you taking so much stuff?” She asked, exasperated, but heading towards the bed to help him anyways.

“Unlike you, I don’t want to walk around looking homeless.” He snapped, and Mila simply rolled her eyes at the insult.

“Oh yes, how could I forget that _Beka_ will be there.” She grinned mischievously, cackling at the deadly glare she received.

“That is not the reason I’m packing nice clothes.” He snarled, a brush creeping up his neck, “And don’t call him that. He’s my friend, not yours.”

“Ah yes, the _friend_ who you spend practically every waking hour talking to.” He threw a screwed-up T-shirt at her, hoping to hit her in her rarely bare face. She caught it, much to his disappointment, and began folding it.

“You go message Vitya and let him know we’re running late. I’ll sort this out for you.” She smiled, relenting her teasing. He grumbled, but wasn’t going to complain at her offer so grabbed his phone and made his way to the kitchen.

He wasn’t too happy that he’d had to leave a few of his clothes at Mila’s, but the pair arrived at the rink with only an hour and a half to spare. “Finally, you two always manage to hold us up!” Yakov yelled, motioning to Viktor’s large car. “Get in. Georgi and I will meet the four of you at the airport. Do not waste any more time.” He ignored Yuri’s grumbles, instead getting into his car and setting off, Georgi waving stupidly out of the passenger window.

“It’s not my damn fault,” Mila was complaining, as she lifted her sparkly blue suitcase into the trunk of Viktor’s car, “Yuri decided he wanted to pack his whole wardrobe.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on all that stupid wine last night, we wouldn’t have had to rush around this morning!” the younger skater argued, handing off his tiger print case to her.

“You two got drunk last night? Are you hungover? Have you had any painkillers?” Katsuki’s irritating voice found its way to Yuri’s ears, and he rolled his eyes.

“It was one bottle of wine, Katsudon. We’re Russian. We’re fine.”

“You aren’t even old enough to drink, Yurochka.” Viktor chided, opening the door for the angry boy.

“Tsk, please. Both of us had drunk more vodka in our pre-teens than Katsudon has in his entire life.” He muttered, causing Mila to start laughing beside him.

The car started, and Viktor, Mila and Yuuri started a conversation on some mundane subject. Yuri sighed, pulling his headphones from the pocket of his signature team jacket and plugging them into his phone. There was no way he was subjecting himself to ages of listening to those three the whole journey. The screen lit up with a message from Otabek, immediately taking his attention.

_Beka - Morning. I’ll probably be on the plane by the time you see this so fly safe._

He looked at the time, sighing when he saw that Otabek would, indeed, be on the plane. He typed a reply quickly, for Beka to see when he landed, before turning on his music and allowing the scenery to lull him to sleep.

He was dragged out what seemed to be moments later, grumbling as he felt Mila shake his shoulder. “Hey, brat, get up. We’re at the airport.”

“Fuck off, hag.” He snapped, flicking her arm away and rubbing his sleep-hazed eyes.

“Yurochka, be nice!” Viktor’s sing song voice rang from the boot, where he and Yuuri were unloading their cases. Yuri ignored him, getting out of the car and grabbing his bag.

“Did you bring hand luggage, Yurio?” Katsuki asked, handing Mila hers and grabbing his own.

“No, didn’t figure there was much point. And don’t call me that.” He turned to Mila, “What show have you downloaded this time?”

“I decided on Sherlock. I like Martin Freeman.” She winked down at the blond, who grimaced.

“You’re such a damn perv. I only got a couple random movies. I’ll probably fall asleep again.” He shrugged, the pair deciding to leave Viktor and Yuuri to find the meter.

“Yakov and Georgi will already be inside!” Yuuri called to them, and Mila gave him the thumbs up.

“How much do you want to bet Georgi's gonna watch Pretty Little Liars again.” She smirked. Yuri glanced at her.

“I heard him say something about The Vampire Diaries. You’re on.” He grinned, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and hurrying over to where he saw his coach and rinkmate.

“I hate you, stupid brat.” Mila frowned, discreetly handing Yuri 800 rubles.

“Love you too, Baba.” He grinned sarcastically, pocketing it just as Yakov turned around. He had never taken lightly to them betting on his other students, but he turned a blind eye most of the time. Viktor and Yuuri had finally gotten into line to get searched, and Yuri had begrudgingly agreed to wait for them. Georgi had gone ahead, as usual deciding to spend the majority of his money for their trip on makeup in duty free.

“I swear, you’d think he had enough of it by now.” Mila grumbled, watching the skater’s retreating back.

“He wouldn’t have to keep buying it if you didn’t steal it all.” Yuri muttered, earning himself a swat to the back of the head.

“You can’t say anything, Mr Welcome to the Madness. We both know you’d have poked your eye out if Georgi hadn’t insisted he help you.”

“Quit arguing, the pair of you.” Yakov grunted, not even bothering to look at the squabbling pair, “Go with Georgi, if you have to. At least it’ll help my headache.” The pair stood, taking the hint to leave, and caught up with their rinkmate. As suspected, he was busy fawning over the cheaper makeup. Mila dis-appeared towards the alcohol section, leaving Yuri with him.

“Do you want anything, Yurochka?” He asked, looking up at the boy from where he was crouched by a stand. His voice was more tolerable in normal circumstances than it was when he was wittering away about his latest ex – in fact, Yuri dared say that he was his favourite of his fellow Russian skaters. “I doubt you brought any with you, and I certainly wouldn’t mind dolling you up for that boyfriend of yours.”

Scratch that. Yuri would not mind having his fist planted in Georgi’s stupid face.

“He is not my fucking boyfriend,” Yuri seethed, “And I don’t want any of your stupid makeup.”

“One, uh, he totally is. Two, you looked amazing when I did your makeup for your exhibition skate last year. I’d like to do it again.”

“Whatever. I’m sure the only reason you have hand luggage is for all your shadowy stuff. If you really wanna do it that bad, just use that.”

“But it’d be cool if you had some of your own stuff. I know you keep some of the lip-glosses I give you, but it wouldn’t do harm to get some eyeshadow and stuff.” Yuri rolled his eyes – every time they came into duty free, Georgi always tried to insist, even offering to buy it himself. The younger skater always denied.

“Don’t bother. I’m going to find the hag.” He grabbed his case again, turning towards the booze section. While still in earshot, he turned back to Georgi.

“And Beka is not my boyfriend.” He glared hard as the raven-haired man laughed, stomping over to Mila.

“Oi, Brat!” The hag’s voice was like a foghorn, and quite a few people turned in distaste at her yelling. Yuri, used to it, simply made his way over. “This is some nice wine. Pretty cheap too.” She grinned, handing him the bottle. He gave it the once over, shrugging.

“Looking to replace the stuff we drank last night?”

“Nah, I can wait ‘til the return for that. I’m looking for stuff we can drink when we win!”

“Confident, aren’t you?” Yuri muttered, picking up a bottle to look over himself. Mila’s grin widened.

“Why can’t we be? With Viktor still training Yuuri, I’m sure you’ll have first place in the bag.”

“I’m sure the old man and Katsudon would be over the fucking moon to hear you say that.”

“Please, I know that Yuuri and Viktor are amazing skaters, but you’ll always be my number one. You’ve got this win for sure.” She grinned, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He swatted her away, his face contorting in annoyance.

“Don’t jinx me, hag.” He shoved the bottle towards her, ignoring her cackling laugh as he usually did. She decided on the one he’d picked, paying and shoving it into her hand luggage before Yakov could see.

“Right, Georgi’s just buying one of his pamphlet things,” Yakov said, and Yuri couldn’t help but smirk at Viktor’s muttered “Palette”, “And then we can go and wait.”

“Can I get a drink? I’d kill for a Starbucks.” Mila grinned up at her coach, who sighed but nodded, the redhead taking note of the drinks both of the Yuri’s and Viktor wanted as well.

“Georgi can get his own damn drink.” She muttered after a few moments of waiting, heading towards the shop.

“Right, Yurochka.” Viktor said, as he sat down beside the boy, “Before you plug into your phone, I want to talk to you.”

“About what, old man?” Yuri sighed, looking nonchalantly out of the window.

“Once we land, I’ll go into Yuuri’s coach and competitor mode, so whilst I have the chance I want to be Yurio’s teammate.”

“What are you even on?” The blond scoffed at Viktor’s wording, turning to the man with a look of disgust. He was greeted by the same dopey expression as usual.

“I wanted to wish you luck, and tell you that no matter what happens with the podium, as long as you try your best that’s all that matters.”

“Shut up, old man, you sound like a dad.” Viktor’s smile only widened at Yuri’s grumble.

“Oh, Yurochka, I didn’t know you saw me as a father figure! I’m flattered, really-”

“Sometimes I would really like to kick you, Vitya.”

“You used to, frequently!” He grinned, “But seriously. I sincerely hope that you get third. If Georgi had made it through to the final, I’d be cheering him on for fourth-” he was cut off as the man turned back to them, his gaze sharp.

“We get it, Vitya, I messed up big time on that quad salchow. No need to rub it in.” He turned back before Viktor could reply, but if Mila’s laughter was anything to go by, that wasn’t all he had said. The oldest of the four rolled his eyes.

“Anyway. Of course, I will be regaining my title as champion, with Yuuri in second. And you’re going to get bronze if you don’t get too angry and actually do your skate properly. I suppose I hope that your boyfriend gets fourth.”

“He is not my boyfriend! And I am going to beat you and the Katsudon with my eyes closed.” He snapped, aware that his loud mouth was dragging attention towards the group, but not caring enough to lower his tone.

“Vicchan, you’re really the worst at pep-talks.” Katsuki said, “I know you try, but your words of encouragement tend to be a little… backhanded.” Yuri didn’t hear Viktor’s reply, as phones were now allowed in the cabin and he had his earphones plugged in.

_ Just landed. See you at the hotel - Yura_

_Beka - Awesome. If you want, I’ll grab the bike and pick you up _

_You seriously brought your bike? – Yura _

_I’m literally starving, so I’ll come back to the hotel and get some food, then we can explore. – Yura _

_Beka – I’m pretty sure Pichit has already gone exploring. I swear I saw him when I first got here, but he’s disappeared. _

_You bet. His Instagram’s already full of new pics. My notifications are going insane – Yura _

_Beka – This is why I prefer them turned off._

“Texting the boyfriend, are we Yura?” He looked up from his phone to see Mila’s grinning face sat in front of him.

“Shut up, hag! And stop calling him that!” Georgi and Viktor’s grins were not lost on him despite how much they tried to hide them, and for once Yuri was actually grateful for the presence of Yakov and Katsuki in this taxi – he hadn’t researched the laws of France and didn’t plan on finding out what the charge for triple homicide was. At least, not until he’d seen Otabek face to face.

“So, are you gonna have one of those romantic slow-motion hugs?” She continued to tease, and Yuri begrudgingly felt his face heat up. 

Honestly, he hadn’t given a second thought to his and Otabek’s meeting. Would they hug? The first and last time they had seen one another had been in Barcelona, almost a year ago. Sure, they’d skyped, texted and called practically every day since then, but was hugging his friend okay? Was it too forward for only their second time they’d be seeing one another? His mind reeled, completely blocking out the talking of the other skaters. Was he just overthinking it? Would Otabek be thinking the same thing? What if they saw each other and just stood there awkwardly?

“Are you okay, Yurio?” He visibly flinched as Katsuki spoke quietly beside him. None of the others noticed, too busy in their conversation about Mila’s program.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t call me that.” He grumbled, “Just thinking about when I see Beka.” Why he suddenly felt the need to divulge his thoughts to the Japanese man, he wasn’t quite sure – but to be honest, if anyone in the cramped taxi would know how to stop his mind from spinning, it would be the panicky older skater.

“Because of what Mila said?” He looked up, keeping his voice low to ensure the others didn’t hear. Yuri shrugged, not wanting to admit that his teammates words got to him. He was the Ice Tiger of Russia for hell’s sake!

“Look, when you see Otabek, just do whatever feels natural. Just because you haven’t talked in real life, doesn’t make your friendship any less valid. If you want to hug him, go for it, if not, don’t.” Yuri wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, and Yuuri placed his hand on the younger boy’s knee, “I’m sure he’s thinking the exact same thing as you are. Try not to sweat it too much.” Yuri just nodded, and Katsuki took that as thanks enough, jumping back into the conversation between Viktor and Georgi.

Despite how much he tried to squash his nerves down, Yuri felt himself panicking even more as the hotel came into view. Otabek’s bike sat gleaming across the road, completely inconspicuous to any fans, but attracting Yuri’s eyes immediately. He’d know the vehicle anywhere. “You good, Yuri?” Katsuki asked as he joined the blond on the pavement outside the luxurious double doors. He nodded, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yura!” The deep gruff of Otabek’s voice and the nickname he had grown used to over the past year pulled his attention immediately, and his face lit up, not even catching Mila and Georgi’s side-long glances to one another as he ran to his friend. Turns out, he hadn’t needed to worry about their meeting, because there were arms around his waist in a second and he was lifted onto his toes.

“I missed you, Yura.” The older teen’s voice said into his ear, and Yuri snaked his arms around his friend’s neck, trapping his head between Beka’s head and shoulder. He’d grown a little in the past year, but it appeared Otabek had too. Stupid lack of growth spurts.

“You too.” He muttered, keeping his eyes shut in order to avoid the look that his rink-mates would be giving him.

“Yuri. Case.” Yakov snapped, dropping the suitcase down at the pair’s feet. Yuri rolled his eyes, pulling away from the hug to grab it.

“I’ll just throw this in my room, and then I’ll meet you down here and we can go find somewhere to eat, sound good?” Otabek nodded, his gaze following Yuri as he ran towards the elevator.

When the Russian skater joined Otabek in the lobby, he was glad to find him clad in his leather jacket, a helmet under each arm. “Safety first,” He said, smiling slightly as he handed over the white helmet that Yuri had worn in Barcelona.

“Whatever, Mr Responsible. Let’s get out of here.” He grinned, practically dragging Otabek from the door by his sleeve. “Should we google a place to get food or just drive around until we find somewhere?” Yuri asked, looking up at his taller friend with a bigger grin than Otabek had seen in weeks. Both have them had gotten restless, annoyed that they hadn’t been assigned together at any of the other grand prix competitions before the final. Yuri had been sent to Rostelecom, whilst Otabek had jetted to Skate America. Both had been equally infuriated when they’d found out (Yuri admittedly voicing it more than Otabek) but now they were here, at the Grand Prix Final, together. Just like Barcelona.

“Pichit actually sent me a place, a few streets away. He said that he’ll meet us there and tell us some good sights.”

“Chulanont has your phone number?” Yuri asked with a raised eyebrow, watching as Beka straddled the bike, “what, you gonna ride in on your bike and save him from a bunch of screaming fans?” He was teasing, but felt a surge of jealousy within his gut. He knew that Otabek had other friends, he wasn’t dim, but he liked the idea of being the man’s only best friend. Luckily, the smile that Otabek sent him, though small, reassured him.

“No, Yura, you know that’s a service reserved only for you.” Yura felt something weird in his stomach at his words, and his insides flipped when Otabek added a wink to the mix. That was hella weird.

“Good.” He stuck out his tongue, climbing onto the bike behind him. “So save me, Beka!” He felt his friend’s shoulders shake with his chuckle, and then the rumble of the bike was all Yuri could hear. 


	2. Chapter 2

The streets of Marseille were, to no surprise, a complete mystery to Yuri, and he watched the building zoom past as Otabek drove towards the café he had been talking about. The ride was over all too quickly, and then Beka was climbing off the seat and unclasping his helmet.

“come on, Yura. Pichit’s inside – we’ll grab some drinks, you can have some food, and then we can start checking off this sightseeing list.” Yuri nodded, his eyes falling on the waving Pichit as soon as they stepped into the small café. Otabek made for the register, hoping that the small bits of French he’d been learning over the past few weeks would do him so good. Yuri headed for Pichit, hoping that the next however-long-this-would-take would pass quickly. The Thai boy was cool enough, the blond sup-posed, but after a while his cheerful demeanour grew tiring on the less socially applicable skater. In fact, he’d concluded that Katsudon just had a thing for over-the-top-happy people. Chulanont and Viktor. Next, he’d be buddying up with the Maple Leaf Douchebag.

“Hey, Yurio- Uh, Yuri. Sorry. That’s what the other Yuuri calls you when we talk.” He laughed awkwardly, and the Russian had already begun praying that Beka would be joining them soon.

“Katsuki talks about me with you?” He asked, eyebrow raised, and Pichit’s expression turned to one of panic – honestly, Yuri knew he had a reputation as the Russian Punk, but did everyone seriously think he was going to hit them? That was reserved for his teammates, Katsuki and the Canadian dick.

“Yeah, but all good things I swear! Yuuri really likes you, I don’t think he’s ever had a bad thing to say!”

“pfft, whatever.” Yuri muttered, knowing that the happy boy was probably lying about that last part, but not bringing it up.

“So, you and Otabek are going sightseeing today, huh?” He asked, peering into the empty coffee cup in front of him as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, “I have a few places I’ve seen in my last couple days here, so I hope I can help out.” Yuri shrugged, already tired of the conversation. Luckily, Otabek had returned with their order.

“You’ve been here a few days?” He said lowly, not particularly one for conversation. Pichit nodded enthusiastically.

“Yup. Coach arranged for us to get here two days ago so that I’d have time for exploring. He knows it’s one of my favourite parts of the competition.” Pichit continued to chat away, Otabek occasionally commenting here and there, but Yuri simply stared out of the window, mindlessly eating the fries that Beka had ordered. Eventually, he grew tired of the small talk and knew that Otabek would be too.

“It’s getting late, so if you have the list of places and directions, we’d really like to get going.” He said, and Pichit nodded.

“Right, sorry. Sometimes I get ahead of myself. Here!” He handed the notes to Otabek, before standing.

“I know that Yuuri said Viktor’s arranging a meal tonight, at the hotel, for all of the skaters. You guys coming?” Yuri sent a sideways glance at Otabek, who shrugged.

“We don’t know yet. Depends how long all this takes us.” The boy nodded, before grabbing his back-pack and phone and heading out of the shop. Yuri sighed as soon as the door was closed.

“Social interaction is so tiring, Beka.” He muttered, and he got a chuckle in response.

“Pichit’s nice, but if talking was an Olympic sport, he’d win for sure.” Yuri himself chuckled at that, be-fore pulling himself from the booth.

“Come on, I wasn’t lying about it getting late. Yakov will kill me if I get back after dark.”

They drove around for a bit, deciding to just see most of the sights on Pichit’s list on the journey. Yuri didn’t particularly enjoy most of them, if he was honest, but he enjoyed the time with his friend and the relaxing sense of freedom he had gotten when on the bike back in Barcelona. The pair had stopped at their fourth café, one with a view of the port.

“Congrats on winning Worlds’, by the way.” Otabek said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them since they had got here. Yuri looked up from his drink, an eyebrow raised.

“We literally skyped the second I got into the changing rooms.” He smirked. Otabek had fallen in training just before World’s, spraining his wrist and causing him to withdraw from the competition. For some skaters, missing out on such a massive competition could be career ending, but Yuri knew his friend was strong enough to get back on his game and now here he was, at the Grand Prix final for his third year running.

“I know, but I never got to congratulate you in person.” Yuri did laugh at that, a sight that he only let Otabek – and his teammates, on rare occasion – see.

“You’re such a dork, Beka. But thank you – it would have been better if you’d have been there though. I’d have had some proper competition if you had been!”

“Yuuri wasn’t too far behind you. And everyone skated reasonably well.”

“Katsudon was too busy being mushy about his public engagement announcement with Viktor. It was hardly even a challenge. That’s why I’m glad you’re here this time – I’m not going easy just because we’re friends.”

“Wouldn’t want you to. And neither will I.” Otabek nodded, the corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. Yuri flashed him a grin.

“Good.”

When the pair got back to the hotel, they discovered that Viktor had indeed arranged a dinner between all of the skaters and their coaches. He had even hired a private dining room, which he had managed to forget to mention to even Yakov, who was not happy.

“This will be out of your own pocket, Vitya,” He said gruffly, as the Russian team stood in the elevator, “There is no way you are using the rink’s funds for your tea parties.”

Surprisingly enough, the suit that Yuri had been forced to wear wasn’t as itchy as the one from the one at Viktor’s Worlds dinner, which he had also not mentioned to his past coach (Then, Yakov had also insisted that he would not be paying, but declared once they were home that Mila would have to wait for new skates because funds were down. Luckily this dinner was a much smaller scale)

“I’m sure Yuri doesn’t mind this dinner,” Mila said, her tone menacingly teasing in a way that made Yuri want to go back to his and Georgi’s room, “After all, _his Beka_ will be there.”

“Will you shut the hell up, hag! And don’t call him that!” Yuri snapped, praying to whatever Gods were out there that he would be seated far, far away from his rink mates. Thankfully, he ended up between Otabek and Mila’s friend and fellow competitor, Sara Crispino. He vaguely recognized the name, but couldn’t place where he’d heard it.

“Michele? One of the skaters we competed against last year?” Yuuri said when he asked later that night, “Italian skater, came third at worlds?” Ah, so he was the one who seemed to be hovering around her all night. Yuri thought he recognized him from somewhere.

“Is he here to support her then?” He asked, shrugging. So he wasn’t too good at remembering names… or faces. So what? It’s not like it made a difference.

“Yes, Yuri.” The older Yuri sighed, though there was no sign of annoyance in it. More just an exasperated sigh – Yuri was used to those. Yakov had wrapped the party up pretty early, saying that he had two skaters under his care and one half under it, and so wanted them up and early for practice. The other coaches had agreed, and honestly Yuri was just grateful to get away from JJ’s insistent blabbering.

“Are you nervous to compete against Vicchan this year?” Yuuri’s question surprised the younger skater, and Yuuri continued quickly, “I mean, I know that’s something you’ve wanted for a long time. To compete against him at the Grand Prix Final.”

“I guess so. But he’s old, I’m sure we’ll have no problem beating him. We smashed both of his records last year, after all, and he’s also been training you whilst practicing himself. He’s bound to completely bomb this year.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Yuuri said, watching Yuri as the blond sat beside him, “After all, he’s made it to finals. His routines are amazing.”

“Of course they are, he’s Viktor Nikiforov. But that doesn’t make him unbeatable, and he knows it. We all have a running chance this year, even you.” Yuuri chuckled, recognizing the lack of bite in Yuri’s tone. Admittedly, his relationship with Katsudon had definitely improved in the past year. He would even go as far as to call the Japanese man his friend – not out loud, though, of course.

“I don’t know, if you pull out a skate like you did for last year’s short, I don’t think anyone has a chance.”

“Don’t jinx it, Katsudon. Besides, even if I did have something like that up my sleeve, it’s not like I’d tell you. We’re rivals, remember?”

“yeah, but you like me really.” Katsuki said teasingly, a smile playing on his lips. Yuri rolled his eyes, lightly pushing the older man before standing and continuing to unpack.

“Where is Vitya anyways?”

“Chris flew out to watch him skate. He arrived pretty late, but I think they’ve gone to investigate the hotel spa.”

“Tsk,” Yuri scoffed, “Typical.” Yuuri laughed, and the Russian even felt himself smile.

Morning started early for the Russian team, and Yuri did not shy away from a chance to take advantage of Georgi and Mila’s hungover selves.

“Wake up, emo head!” He yelled, making Georgi jump out of his skin. It was about ten minutes before their alarm, but Yuri had woken early, and that meant Georgi had to too.

“Yuri you little bastard, leave me alone.”

“Nope,” The boy said loudly, popping the ‘p’, “It’s not my fault your stupid ass went and got drunk last night. You knew we had practice.” He heard the ruffle of covers from where he stood in their en-suite, and then a muffled.

“Fuck you, brat, I have another twelve and a half minutes.” He rolled his eyes, before making his way back into the main part of their room and pulling over his cupboards. He got out his gear – leggings and a slim long-sleeved shirt, pulling them on before letting the doors close loudly. He guessed that Georgi had just managed to drift off again, because his covers flinched wildly and another muffled,

“I hate you.” drifted into the near-empty hotel room. Yuri’s laugh probably woke up their neighbours. 

“Did he give you hell?” Mila asked with a sigh, as Georgi sat beside her in the hotel’s cafeteria. He grunted.

“Don’t even _mention_ the little shit.” He muttered, ignoring Viktor’s tutting at the language.

“Well I’m _so_ sorry that you forgot to pack painkillers.” The aforementioned ‘little shit’ grinned, sitting across from the hungover pair. Yakov was, as suspected, extremely unhappy when he discovered the state they were in – had even congratulated Yuri on his lack of a hangover (Though ‘Thank God Yuri actually had sense for once in his life’ was a little backhanded, and Yuri decided he knew where Viktor got his talent for compliments from) He had given the pair of them painkillers, but declared that he would work them both twice as hard for their stupidity. The two Yuri’s smiled at one another, hoping that the situation would mean easier practice for them.

It wasn’t. Yakov had them running their routines almost all day, he and Georgi yelling pointers from the edge of the rink. He’d managed to get in a morning booking for the first day, which was what all the coaches hoped for, and for once Yuri was glad to have such a big team. “Leg straight, Yurochka.” Georgi called from behind the barrier, and Yuri could sense the comment before it even came, “I know that’s a hard concept for you, but I’m sure you can manage to at least look it.”

“Oh, suck it, Georgi.” He snapped, before muttering a few choice insults under his breath in Russian. Mila giggled as she skated beside him, heading over to Viktor.

“Okay, get off the ice. Actually sleep tonight – if I find out any of you have been drinking you’ll be on the first plane home. Don’t stuff your face at dinner – as tempting as a free for all buffet is, you are athletes and you need to keep a diet, believe it or not. And make sure you still do off ice workouts – don’t slack off just because you aren’t skating until the event.” He sighed as they all beelined for the door, seemingly not even listening, and wondered why he’d been given all of the rebellious skaters.

“I think that was the most coach-y thing he’s ever said!” Viktor mused, making the others laugh as they entered the streets of Marseille.

Yuri found Otabek as soon as they got to the hotel, and the pair their way for Otabek’s room. With it only being his coach and him, the guy had his own room (A fact that Yuri was very jealous of)

“How did training go?” The stoic man asked, unlocking his door and letting Yuri inside. The blond dived onto the neatly made bed, kicking his trainers off with his feet.

“My feet ache, obviously.” He said, his voice muffled by the covers, “But it wasn’t too bad; Yakov knows that if we don’t have our routines down by now, we won’t manage them by tomorrow evening. Have you got anything booked in?”

“Tomorrow morning, yeah.” Beka shrugged, sitting down beside where Yuri was laid. The Russian looked up at him quizzically.

“Aren’t the junior’s competing tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, but coach found this rink on the other side of town. It’s smaller than the one here, but it’ll do for perfecting my jumps and stuff.” He shrugged, pulling his phone from his back pocket. Yuri sat up, leaning against his friend’s shoulder and watching as he pulled up Instagram.

“Pichit sure posted a lot.” He commented, as the Kazakh scrolled through his feed. With a hum of agreement, he tossed the phone onto the bedside table.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, looking down at where Yuri had dropped back down, a small smile on his face.

“Dunno. We could go back to that café from yesterday, but that would be so boring.”

“We could try and see if this place has rooftop access? I think I heard Chris mention it to Viktor before we came up here.” Yuri’s mischievous grin was answer enough, and the pair were darting towards the door a second later.

“It’s nice up here,” Yuri said quietly, as if apprehensive to break the comfortable silence between them, “It reminds me of Barcelona.” Otabek nodded, a small smile curling onto his features.

“I’m going to be honest. The view isn’t quite as beautiful.” He paused for a minute, then glanced over at Yuri, “Company’s just as good though.”

“Oh my God, that’s so _cheesy_, Beka! I bet the other skaters would find you way less intimidating if they knew how much of a dork you are.” He laughed, leaning his head on Otabek’s shoulder.

“The others think I’m intimidating?” He asked, and Yuri peered up at him.

“Well, you have a motorbike, and you wear all that leather and you always seem so… quiet? Honestly, when you found me hiding from those crazy fangirls I was kinda scared! Course, then I found out how much of a softie you are.” He nudged him, and Otabek once again fell silent, gazing out over Marseille.

“Did I intimidate you? Before the thing in Barcelona, I mean.” He asked after a moment, dropping his gaze back to the top of Yuri’s blond head. Yuri scoffed,

“Intimidate me? Please, I’m the Ice Tiger of Russia! Nobody intimidates me.” He grinned, and Otabek shrugged.

“That’s okay then. I mean I spent most of my time in the Junior’s trying to impress you – I’d hate to think that I’d scared you instead.” He chuckled.

“Honestly, the only skaters I even bothered to pay attention to before Katsuki came long was Mila, Georgi and Viktor. You know, I didn’t even realise I’d ever competed against anyone called ‘Michele Crispino’ until Katsudon told me last night.” He laughed as Otabek’s eyebrow rose.

“Really? He got bronze at Worlds’.”

“Yeah, that’s what made me realise who it was. I’m just… unobservant, I guess.” Otabek’s chuckles rose to what could be considered laughter.

“Unobservant? Yura, that sounds more like you’re blind!” He said, and normally Yuri would want to rip the head off of anyone teasing him, but this was Beka. They were friends, and friends teased each other all the time. That’s why he was getting a weird squirmy feeling in his gut again.

“Shut up, you dork. I spent most of the past year training to win at worlds’, and here. I haven’t had much time for paying attention to the competition.”

“I’m the competition.” Otabek said with a shrug, and Yuri light-heartedly rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but you’re different. You’re my best friend, so you don’t count.”

“I am?” The Kazakh rose an eyebrow, and when Yuri looked up at him his stomach squirmed even more.

“Of course! Who else am I going to rant about the disgusting old man and Katsudon to? Not to mention Baba and Georgi.” He scoffed, and was pleased to see that Otabek was chuckling too, his gaze set back over the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait; I haven't written for this story for a while as I've hit a bit of a hole between two larger plot points where nothing is really happening. Because of that I guess I've sort of forgotten that it existed? Meaning I haven't posted here. So my apologies for the long wait - I will try and remember to post a chapter more often here. 
> 
> Please, if you have any ideas what to name this damn thing they'd be very much appreciated. Been working on it for two years and still can't think of one.   
As always, your comments would mean the world to me, especially constructive criticism! (Although note that these were written, as I said, almost two years ago, so whilst they are modified a little they may be a little rustier than my current works)
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope to see you in the next one!

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the first chapter. Insane to think that this was written last year; so much has happened in the story since then.  
If you're wondering how it currently stands, I am in the middle of 2017 at chapter 40, so that may give you an idea of how the story length is going to end up. I hope you continue to read on. 
> 
> Thank you so much for giving my story a chance, it means so very much to me. Please leave kudos if you want, or even just a comment. Constructive criticism is welcome.  
This story is like my child. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.


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